Surrender the Stars by Cynthia Wright Read Free Book Online

aware of the gradual change in her physical response. Slowly, pleasure replaced anger as the source of her passion, and she experienced arousal for the first time.
    She found herself loving the taste of Ryan's mouth, the texture of the curls at the nape of his neck, the pressure of his hard male body against her own, the warmth and the scent of his skin, and the sure touch of his fingers. For an instant, Lindsay reveled in Ryan Coleraine before it dawned on her that this was not the way she was supposed to feel. Panic struck like a slap in the face.
    Ryan felt her stiffen and tremble simultaneously and, guessing the reason, released her. "Had enough?" he whispered hoarsely.
    She had to grip the edge of the Pembroke hall table for support. Surrounded by her tangled mane of curls, Lindsay's face looked poignantly stricken and pale, but then sparks kindled in her eyes. "You are an animal. I despise you!"
    Ryan laughed outright, looking wickedly piratical. "So you keep telling me! Would it be rude of me to wonder what favors you bestow on the men you like?"
    Narrowing her eyes, Lindsay said, "You forced yourself on me."
    "Oh." He nodded with painstaking sobriety. "How thoughtless of me. No doubt an apology is in order. I must have been overwhelmed by your extraordinary charm and beauty."
    "I see that it was wrong of me to call you an animal, Captain Coleraine. Your rudeness prevents you from winning a place among those innocent creatures." She was pleased to hear how dispassionate she sounded. "Now please leave my house. I pray never to have to suffer your company again."
    Opening the door, Ryan remarked, "For once we are in wholehearted agreement, Miss Raveneau." Then he sketched a mocking bow and was gone.

 
     
     
    Chapter 3

     
    April 15-16, 1814
     
    Devon paused on the threshold of the kitchen to demand, "What is that heavenly smell?"
    "Hotchpotch of mutton," Cassie replied, beaming and stirring. She watched her mistress lean over the pot to inhale the fragrance of mutton simmering with onions, carrots, savoy cabbage, turnips, and thyme. "Captain Raveneau asked me to make it this morning. He said he'd had his fill of rich food in Philadelphia and craved something plain."
    "It is good to be home. It felt as if we were away three months rather than three weeks—especially in light of all that happened in our absence."
    "Such a shock for both of you," Cassie commiserated. "Those ships were Pettipauge's lifeblood and now they're just gone! I still can't believe it. And I don't mind telling you that Able and I were sick with dread evening before last, waiting for you and the captain to arrive home. Able knew that he'd have to break the news to Captain Raveneau and we had no idea how he might react! I suppose, though, that we worried needlessly. We've certainly known him long enough to have expected him to bear this tragedy with fortitude."
    Devon poured herself a cup of tea and took a Windsor chair near the hearth. "Well," she said, mustering a weak smile, "all we lost were ships—"
    "The four finest craft on the Eastern seaboard!" Cassie amended proudly.
    "But replaceable, unlike human lives. And Andre is consoled by the fact that our two favorite ships, the Black Eagle and La Mouette, are anchored safely at Stonington. Also, at this stage in our lives, we have a greater fortune than we ever dreamed of when we married. When the war is over, we can afford to rebuild the ships that were burned—and help some of Pettipauge's less financially secure shipowners to do the same." Her clear blue gaze held Cassie's. "You lived in New London during the battle in 1781, didn't you? I've been reminding myself these past two days just how much worse this British raid could have been. None of our townspeople were killed or hurt, and none of our homes were destroyed."
    Wiping her hands on her apron, Cassie sat down opposite her mistress. "Ma'am, ever since you confided yesterday that you and Captain Raveneau may sail to London, I've